Skyrim: World's End
by The Silverblood Writer
Summary: The Dovahkiin's destiny: to slay Alduin and save the realm from the World Eater. But when the world has taken everything from you, does it deserve saving? What if, instead, the Last Dragonborn joined Alduin?
1. A Proposition

**Hellooooo everybody! Silver here, hope you enjoy what's to come!**

-=]I[=-

Alduin surveyed the figure in front of him, head down, both knees in the snow. A blustering gale whipped her blood-red hair around her like a mane, shrouding her face.

She hadn't spoken since her offer, an offer than could disrupt the flow of time itself. In her outstretched arms was an Elder Scroll, a peace offering to the World-Eater.

Alduin merely regarded her in silence. It was Odahviing who first spoke, in her tongue. Even then, he uttered only a single word. "Why?"

She looked up, first at the brightly-colored dragon that addressed her, then at the gleaming red eyes of Alduin himself, her emerald eyes meeting his.

When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. It wasn't much of an explanation, either. "I have nothing else left to lose."

Alduin wasn't surprised easily, yet this… this was the one thing he never would have expected.

"Bring me the Kel." His voice boomed across the mountaintops. The Dovahkiin approached him and laid the Scroll on the ground before him.

"I will not lie, Dovahkiin. Your offer surprised me."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I've been told I'm quite good at surprises."

"And how do I know that you are not here to present me with this offer, then betray me?"

"Lord Alduin, if I were here to kill you, I wouldn't have brought the Scroll."

Odahviing spoke again. "It is possible that you wish to gain our trust, then attack Alduin."

"I can see why you would think that, given my history with the Dark Brotherhood. But I can assure you, I am not here to betray you."

Odahviing glared at her while Alduin looked on in amusement. Odahviing drew closer to her, fangs bared. "Then prove it, Dovahkiin. Prove your loyalty to Lord Alduin."

"I should not need to prove myself to you, but very well. What would you have me do?"

"You should cast yourself down the mountain. The Scrolls have foretold your killing Master Alduin. Who is to say you will not fulfill your destiny?"

"Odahviing, enough." Alduin glared at his second-in-command, who shrank back suddenly.

"My apologies, Lord Alduin. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Do not disrespect me again, Odahviing. There will be consequence." He turned back to the Dovahkiin. "However, Odahviing is correct. I cannot trust you yet, Dovahkiin."

"I figured you wouldn't. That is why I have brought this." The Dragonborn gestured towards the scroll. "It contains the words to the shout Dragonrend. A shout that you, Lord Alduin, cannot perform." She stood up, brushing the snow off of her knees. "You require a mortal to do so."

"You speak the truth, Dragonborn, but we cannot trust you so easily."

The Dovahkiin rolled her eyes. "I acknowledge that, Lord. Yet you cannot trust any of the dov here. Each of them lusts for their own share of your power, and if you give the opportunity, they are sure to betray you. The only reason I am mistrusted is because I am not a true dovah. I am trapped within the body of a mortal. If I didn't know any better, I would say you were frightened of me, and of my role in the fate of this world."

"You dare have the gall to address Alduin in such a manner?" Odahviing, outraged, bared his teeth at the Dovahkiin. She seemed unfazed by him. Odahviing turned to Alduin and spoke to him in Dovahzul. "Alduin, I plead you, permit me to end this nuisance."

"Your spirit is admirable, Dovahkiin, although such rudeness will not be tolerated in the future." Alduin turned to Odahviing, speaking to him in the tongue of the Dovah. "Make preparations for her arrival. Make her presence known among the rest."

"But Lord Alduin…"

"Silence! She will not go unobserved. While I do not fully trust her either, it is better to keep our enemies closer to us."

Odahviing muttered something quietly, earning a glare from Alduin, but grudgingly spread his wings and took off, heading for the next peak, where the dov who were not hunting lay in rest.

Alduin turned back to the Dovahkiin, speaking in the mortal language. "Dovahkiin, I accept this offer. Welcome to my ranks."

-]I[-

"Dovahkiin. There you are." Azalea slowly lifted her eyes to meet those of Odahviing, who was staring at her with some degree of curiosity.

"Odahviing. What do you want?" Her tone, harsh and cold, cut through the winter air. "Last we spoke, you told me to hurl myself off the cliff."

"I wanted to ask you a question. Why? Why bring the Kel to Alduin?"

Azalea looked at him in surprise. She didn't want to relive that memory, but no matter what she did, how much she drank, how much skooma she took, nothing could free her from those memories.

"I guess it goes back a while, but I'm sure you are uninterested in my tragic backstory."

"I do not care. If you are to become one of us, I must know everything I can about you."

Azalea sighed. "Look, I don't want to talk about this."

"If you don't, I kill you where you stand."

"Fine. Get comfortable, my story isn't the shortest.

"I was born somewhere in Cheydinhal, Cyrodiil. My parents and brother were all Nords, who supported the Stormcloaks and despised the dominion. One day, my mom got sick. She… didn't get better. Long story short, it didn't turn my father into a great man. He used alcohol and skooma to cope. My brother and I needed some way to provide for ourselves. He became a sellsword, I resorted to thievery. I'll spare you the details, but the Thalmor killed my dad and took me prisoner after hearing that my brother had become a Stormcloak officer. I think they spared me to use me as leverage, but nobody came for me. I was imprisoned for eight years before escaping, but they caught up to me and sent me with the Stormcloaks to execution. That's when I first encountered Alduin."

Odahviing snorted. "He told me about that. You, the Dovahkiin, bound in chains and helpless. I had a good laugh about that one."

Azalea glared at him, but continued speaking. "As I was saying, I escaped execution and fled to Riften. Being there changed my life. I joined the Brotherhood, the Thieves Guild. I finally had a family."

"Among the dov, there is no concept of family. We live our lives separately, or serving a thuri, a master." Odahviing didn't seem sarcastic or cynical, he sounded somewhat… wistful. As if he was jealous of humanity.

"I lost the Brotherhood first. You see… we were betrayed. By one of our own. Sold out and killed, one by one. Those of us who didn't fall in combat were burnt when they set fire to everything. I can still smell the oil…

"But I digress. It was only me and the Night Mother, our Unholy Matron. I was forced to kill Astrid. She was like a sister to me, and she was gone. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "This blade is the only thing I have to remember them by. I hate it, you know. But I can't… I won't let it go."

Odahviing inspected the blade. Azalea knew that it was forged well, stronger and lighter than ebony daggers. He seemed impressed by it.

"I also lost the Guild to betrayal. After being left for dead in a Nordic ruin, I returned to the Guild to find everyone… Vex, Delvin, even the poor merchants working there, dead. Their throats has been slit, and I recognized the bladework. The same man who gave me up this." Azalea pulled her cuirass up to her ribs, exposing a horrifying scar running across her stomach.

"Anyway, only three of us survived. Myself, Karliah, and… and Bryn. He wasn't there when it happened. He'd gone to search for us, you see. He was as betrayed as I was."

"So you tracked down your betrayer. Yet you returned alone. What happened?"

Azalea felt a lump forming in her throat. "We fought our way through a Dwemer ruin. Made it to Mercer, the traitor. Karliah was too impulsive, to eager to avenge the death of her lover. Mercer… he's great with a sword. Good enough to somehow deflect an arrow. Don't ask. Anyway, he blocked her attack, but she couldn't defend herself against his."

'And the other one, this 'Bryn' fellow? It sounds like you were… quite fond of him."

Azalea smiled, a bittersweet expression of longing and sorrow. "I was. He saw the light in me that even I didn't know existed. He brought out the best in me, and I was willing to follow him to the ends of Nirn. I guess he was willing to do the same. You see… Mercer had broken my blade, my wound had reopened during the battle, and I was helpless. I didn't stand much chance. The Blade of Woe had been thrown from my hand, and I was getting dizzy from blood loss. I was an easy target."

"And yet you stand before me."

"Brynjolf… he… used himself as a shield. Stopped the blade from reaching me. My only asset was the Mehrunes Razor. In desperation, I threw it. I don't know if it was skill, or luck, or if Dagon was feeling merciful that day. It hit its mark, and I was alone.

"Bryn was still breathing a little when the battle was over. He told me he was proud and that… that he loved me. And then, he was gone. Just like that. The only man who I ever loved. Along with my friends… my family… everyone was taken from me."

"And so… you came here. Why not run to Paarthurnax, or the Blades?"

"The Blades are insufferable, using me as a tool for their own destruction. And Paarthurnax wouldn't allow me to take my revenge on this world. Alduin was the most powerful force out there. His power intrigued me. Mind you, I didn't think of it at first. I remember remaining in a comatose state for weeks. I'd drink myself to sleep every night, wake up, drink some more. Then I realized that I'd become my father, so I moved on to… other ways of distracting myself." Azalea subconsciously rubbed her wrists, feeling the recent gashes beneath her fingertips.

"What stopped you? You would have killed yourself."

Azalea laughed coldly. "I wanted to kill myself. Believe me, I almost did. I'd relapsed, started drinking again. Filling my body with the same poison. But I realized, that if I died, the people of the world would continue to lie, cheat, and betray each other. I can't change the nature of mortals. But-" she slammed her blade into the snow next to her- "I can end it.

"I know that it seems extreme, but I don't care anymore. The world burned me, so I'll burn it back. The world has killed Azalea Sunfire. I am now the Dovahkiin."

Odahviing looked at her with approval. "You may not have the body of a Dovah, but you have the mind of one. We do not stand for betrayal. Now, you must follow me. Alduin wishes to welcome you, formally."

"Very well. Take me to Alduin."

-]I[-

The ride was a short one, merely from one peak to the next. Odahviing deposited Azalea onto the ground, in front of Alduin and the rest of his legion.

"Dovahkiin, you wish to pledge your soul to me, in life and in death?"

Azalea nodded. "Yes, Lord Alduin. You may use my blade, my bow, my Voice however you see fit."

"You denounce the world of mortals, and pledge yourself as one of us, as one of the Dovah?"

"I cast away the realm of elves and men. Let them burn with the rest of the world."

"And you swear to follow my command, no matter the situation?"

"I would walk into the gates to Oblivion if Your Lordship commanded it."

Alduin's fangs curled into what resembled a smile. "Is there anything else you would like to say?"

Azalea stood in silence for a moment, then reached around her neck and pulled off her amulet of Talos. She hadn't ever removed it, not since she had escaped the Thalmor prison. She gazed at the small hammer one last time before allowing it to fall into the snow. "I renounce my mortal name of Azalea Sunfire. Let me be known to those who stand with me and against me that I am Dovahkiin, Dragonborn."

Alduin roared his approval, his Thu'um shaking the very skies. The rest of the dragons, from the common grey ones, to the bronze Ancient dragons, to Odahviing himself, all joined in the chorus. Dovahkiin looked on in wonder as the dragons swirled in spirals around her, each roaring its greeting. A smile spread across her face. She was right where she belonged.

-]I[-

Back on High Hrothgar, the Greybeards heard the greeting of the dragons. A new member had been accepted into Alduin's ranks, and with the energy given off by the Dragonborn that day, Arngeir and the others feared for the worst.

If Azalea really had found Alduin, if she had really taken the Scroll to him, there was no doubt about it. Everything in the realm, from the smallest insect to the largest dragon, everything was doomed.

-=]I[=-

**This one is going to be fun to write! I was having a case of writer's block on Paths, so I decided to do a quick little short story about what would happen if Mercer Frey had ended up killing everyone in the Guild, similar to what had happened with the Brotherhood. I ended up with the idea of her joining Alduin, because that would be a pretty cool game dynamic to have.**

**Next chapter for a story will be the Zelda one, When Our Paths Collide. Check it out if you don't have anything better to do!**

**That's all for now!**

**~Silver**


	2. Masks and Missions

Alright, here is chapter two. Not much to say here. Hope you enjoy!

-=]I[=-

Azalea had quickly become accustomed to living as a dovah. She lived in a cave in the mountains, too small for the dov to have cared about before. What few possessions she had left were stored in there. Her weapons, extra armor, a few books, and the Elder Scroll were carefully laid out inside around a pile of furs she used as a bed. It wasn't nearly as nice as her home in Riften, but she couldn't bear to step foot inside that city again.

Alduin hadn't used her for much yet. Her primary job was to use Dragonrend to shout any defectors into submission. It was a powerful shout, and even Odahviing dreaded its use against him. Mostly she listened to Alduin's plans. He was still raising dragons from their burial grounds to increase his numbers.

It was odd, how focused he was on building up his strength. Azalea attributed it to the Empire. While Alduin was powerful, surely not even he could take on an entire army on his own. Not until he had built up enough strength in Sovngarde. He wouldn't be met without resistance. Surely, no matter their differences, the Stormcloaks, Empire, and Aldmeri Dominion would band together. They couldn't rule the world if there was nothing left to rule.

Most of the dov regarded her with suspicion. Bringing her, the destined slayer of Alduin, into the heart of their operations was about as wise as trusting a Daedric Prince. The only ones who didn't call for her blood were Alduin himself, and surprisingly Odahviing. Initially cynical, he had grown almost warm to her after hearing her story. Strange, coming from him. Azalea had been taught by the Blades that the dragons were emotionless beasts.

The Blades. Azalea knew from the moment she found the note in place of the horn of Jurgen Windcaller that something was wrong. They weren't renowned guardians of the emperor, nor were they famous dragon slayers. They were a weak, failing, crumbling organization that saw her as a tool, as a weapon, to achieve their own ends. Delphine couldn't see past her own intentions. Sending her into the Thalmor Embassy on her own, allowing her to handle any and all dragons, even small things like constantly talking down to her and treating her like a child. Delphine had always thought that she was Azalea's superior, that she'd been in the field longer and was therefore more experienced, and that she should be the one calling the shots. One conversation in particular rang out in her memory.

-Delphine, I don't want to go into the Embassy. You have no idea… the things they did to me… this scar on my face is courtesy of the Thalmor. I can't go somewhere like there… I can't relive those years again.

-You need to quit doubting yourself. You'll do fine. Besides, the Thalmor will recognize me, I can't go inside. You're the Dragonborn, you can handle a few elves.

-Delphine… please. I can't do it. The Thalmor took away my sanity. I can't do it! Listen to me!

-I'm the one calling the shots here, Azalea. Now, go find Malborn and prepare.

Azalea felt her hands shaking in anger. She couldn't wait to finally exact revenge on Delphine. The usual technique she used, a simple, merciful slash to the throat, wouldn't be enough to repay it. If she ever saw the bitch again, she was going to make sure her death was slow and painful.

Esbern was another story altogether. He was snobby, always acting superior than her, smarter than her. He seemed to think he knew more about the Dragonborn than the actual Dovahkiin did. He was infuriating, although he wasn't as horrid as Delphine. Perhaps she wouldn't slowly rip him limb from limb with her dovah strength.

And then there was Arngeir and the Greybeards. They viewed her as a child, who didn't know how to control her abilities. Always scorning her for using her Voice in combat, never trusting her with the information she needed. For the Divines' sake, she hadn't found out about Paarthurnax until it was one hundred percent necessary for the fate of the entire world.

Paarthurnax was the only thing that had stayed her hand at first. The only thing standing between her and bringing the scroll to Alduin. His wisdom was helpful, but he would never stand for what she intended to do. He wouldn't condone her destroying anyone and everyone who had wronged her.

Azalea shook Paarthurnax from her mind. It was bad enough that she had betrayed him and had allowed Alduin to fly free. It was bad enough that she had used Dragonrend on him instead on on Alduin, thus allowing Alduin to retreat when he was wounded. It was bad enough that she had attacked him blindly, cutting a new slash through his right wing. He was already haunting her dreams. He didn't need to haunt her waking thoughts as well.

Aside from doing Alduin's tasks, there was one other thing Azalea was focused on. Using her thu'um to heat the forges, she was working on a "project." Occasionally Odahviing or one of the other dov would watch her forge at the abandoned bandit hideout. Odahviing in particular took interest. If Azalea didn't know any better, she thought he was getting attached to her.

"Dovahkiin, what are you working on?"

Azalea, still focused on the forge, spoke. "A long time ago, before Alduin was thrown forward in time, there were mortals who worshipped the dragons as gods. These Dragon Priests were immensely powerful, and so were the masks they wore."

"I've noticed you take a liking to the masks. You wear one in the presence of us dovah, do you not?"

Azalea nodded. "It's from the priest called Volsung. But-" she tossed a daedra heart into the fire - "I'd rather forge my own. One that augments my own abilities. Besides-" she lifted the creation from the anvil and doused it in water- "I don't want to hide my entire face. I'm still human, despite having a dragon's soul."

"So you created your own. What does it do? Each mask is blessed with some magical ability. What have you chosen as yours?"

"I was a thief and assassin before joining you. This mask will make it almost impossible to detect me." She lifted her creation from the water. It wasn't like the other dragon priest masks; it only covered half her face. It was the type of mask one would expect to see at a masquerade, yet the abilities of the daedric metal shrouded her eyes, leaving only black pits. Horned designs sprouted from either side, obviously taking reference to daedric helmets.

Odahviing looked on, impressed. While the dovah were stronger, faster, and more powerful than humans, mortals could still forge weapons and artifacts. The one thing that made them useful.

"Well, how do I look?" Azalea glanced over at Odahviing, adjusting her mask slightly.

"You put the masks of the Dragon Priests to shame. Good work."

Azalea smirked. "Thanks. I lived on a forge when I was young. Picked up a thing or two. Besides… I think it best that I wear this mask. I want to disassociate with the mortals as much as possible."

"That is a wise decision. One, perhaps, that will earn you the favor of the other dovah."

Azalea sideyed Odahviing, her smirk softening into something like a genuine smile. "Hey, Odahviing, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're growing soft on me."

Odahviing snorted. "Hmph. I respect another member of Alduin's ranks. If he wishes to trust you, then I do so as well."

"Sure, sure. I totally believe you." Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she adjusted her mask yet again. "Anyway, I'll be taking my crafting materials back to my cave. Might as well, since I won't be using this forge again."

"Why not?"

"I came here with the intention of making this mask. I don't feel like forging anything new." She held up the weapons she wielded: a daedric bow the Blade of Woe. She didn't really need any other weapons, unless she occasionally decided to forge some new arrows.

"Very well. Oh, I nearly forgot. I was enthralled with our little discussion."

"What is it?"

"Master Alduin seems to want your presence. I do not think it is another disobedient dovah. This is something he requires you for, Dovahkiin."

Dovahkiin. The word seemed to resonate. The first time Azalea had heard the word Dovahkiin, she had been summoned by the Greybeards to High Hrothgar. Now it wasn't a formality or a title. Among the dovah… among her people… it was her name.

She was done listening to the whims of mortals. They were all beneath her now. Below the clouds… below the mountain… they dwelled, unknowingly facing their demise. Azalea would stop at nothing to make sure the world would collapse under her feet.

"Very well, Odahviing. Take me to Alduin."

-]I[-

"Ah, Dovahkiin. How kind of you to make an appearance." Alduin's cold voice boomed across the mountains, causing the very ground itself to tremble.

"Lord Alduin, Odahviing told me that you required me presence?"

"Yes, that I do. Now, answer a question for me."

"Yes, Lord?"

"You used to be an assassin before coming to me, yes?"

Azalea drew the Blade of Woe, staring at the still-bloodied dagger. She remembered the missions… the very first time she killed, all the way to the assassination of Titus Mede II. The rush of blood, the sudden swish of the blade, the way the life in a target's eyes slowly left as they met her own.

The very first time she'd killed, it had been in a Thalmor prison. She had escaped, grabbed a splintered piece of wood, and had plunged it into the heart of the agent who had been torturing her.

Perhaps she should have realized then. She had no remorse for the mortals she had murdered, not an ounce of sympathy for their families. She had only really mourned the death of one person, and he was likely the only person who would mourn her death in turn.

Azalea shook the memory away. She couldn't get sentimental. The only person in the world who she cared about was dead and gone, and she was willing to destroy anything and everything to get her revenge.

"Yes, Lord Alduin. I was an assassin. The best, I daresay. I am the Night Mother's Listener, and it was I who ended the life of the Emperor."

"Excellent."

"Might I ask why you need to know this?"

"There is a… problem. While my strength is great, I have not yet reached a point where I can defeat an entire army with a sweep of my wing. The Empire from Cyrodiil is strong, yet there is one thing that prevents them from attacking me straightaway."

"The Stormcloak rebellion." Azalea clenched her blade tighter as she said the words. Rumor had it that her brother had been killed fighting for the Stormcloaks. She hadn't wanted anything to do with the war. She hated both sides. The Empire for taking away her worship, for killing her brother. The Stormcloaks for being unable to protect him, and for Ulfric's racial discrimination.

"Yes. Them. You mortals and your armies… I care not for titles. I only see pawns on a chessboard, and you should as well."

"Very well, Lord Alduin. What is it you need done?"

"The war effort has been slowing. There have been… how to say it in mortal words… peace conferences between the two armies. Rumors circulate that they are coming to a consensus. That they are prepared to join forces and attack us when we are at our weakest."

"And you want me to find a way to stop it?"

"Is that not what you assassing are supposed to do? Disrupt the flow of peace in order to achieve the goals of your contractor?"

"Yes. That is what I did. What I do. It will be done."

"I look forward to seeing your results, Dovahkiin. Your successful results."

An underlying threat. Certainly a veiled threat, but a threat nonetheless. Azalea's lip curled into a sneer. She didn't take kindly to being threatened.

"It will be done, My Lord."

-]I[-

"So, Dovahkiin, do you have a plan yet?" Odahviing flew to greet Azalea a few hours later, who was polishing her blade at the forge at the grindstone.

"I do, actually."

"Pray tell."

"My plan is to first sneak into a Stormcloak encampment and grab a set of their armor. The second step is to sneak into the Palace of the Kings. There are bound to be important documents in the Jarl's place of residence. Documents that he's signed."

"I don't follow."

"In my work as a thief, I would break into businesses and change their ledgers. Forge numbers, you know? I got really good at copying handwriting. I think I can copy signatures as well."

"So you intend to forge a contract."

"Yes. After that, I'll sneak into the Blue Palace and kill Jarl Elisif the Fair. I'll get arrested, have them find the contract on my body."

"Are you not afraid of execution?"

"My head had been on the block before. More than once, actually. But I think I can get out of it. A few well-placed bribes, some usage of my Thu'um, and a little help from something called the Skeleton Key." Azalea reached into her pocket and pulled out an ornate key, with intricate nautilus shell designs lining the base.

"That's Nocturnal's artifact, is it not?"

"Yeah. Mercer Frey stole it from the Guild. I was going to return it to the Twilight Sepulcher but…" Azalea trailed off. She told herself that it was because she had devoted herself to serving Alduin, but that wasn't really it. She was afraid. Afraid to enter the resting place of the Nightingales. Afraid to face Brynjolf and Karliah again.

"Never mind. I'll get out of it. I always do."

"Then I wish you the best of luck, Dovahkiin. Hail Alduin."

Azalea smiled, drawing her dagger. "Hail Alduin."

-=]I[=-

So that was the second chapter! Hope you guys enjoy, and see what's to come next. Alduin still isn't at full power, so he's sending Azalea on this mission in order to weaken the forces of the mortals. Anyway, this was difficult to write. I've been going through some writer's block (again. I'm a disaster and I know it) but I managed to type this out. I'll be updating When Our Paths Collide next, so if you like the Zelda franchise be sure to check this out.

Anyway, be sure to review! Your feedback is always appreciated, and if you don't know anything to say about the story, just say hi!

See you around!

~Silver

EDIT: Hello again, after a helpful review from JDLENL (thanks btw) I've gone back through the story and fixed a few mistakes. There were some grammar errors (probably due to me writing at 2am) and I accidentally called the Elder Scroll the "kaal" rather than the "kel." Actually, that's not a "tired" mistake, that's the name of a character in a story I'm helping my friend write. Guess my fingers just automatically type what I don't want them to :p

Anyway, that's it!


	3. The Dovahkiin's First Task

**Fun fact: This was supposed to be published 6 days ago and as it turns out, I never got around to the publishing phase. Sorry about that… **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy**

-=]I[=-

Azalea had gone through many contracts, but none had been ordered by a dragon. She supposed there was a first time for everything, but for the first time, she stopped to consider: had the killing gone too far?

No. There was no need to hesitate. If she so much as faltered, everything would be at stake. And now, in these darkening times, her thirst for revenge was so great that she would go to any lengths to achieve it, even if it meant losing any morals she had left. If she had any morals left.

What had been her last "good" deed? It must have been before Mercer. His death, although justified, wasn't a virtuous act. Infact, it was yet another revenge mission. Perhaps it was before she came to Skyrim… earlier than that, even.

Had she ever really been a good person? Most of her actions were motivated towards self-preservation, she never really cared about anyone else. It didn't matter. In Alduin's ranks, kindness was synonymous with weakness. And she couldn't afford to be weak.

Several Stormcloak encampments dotted Skyrim, usually sparsely guarded as the generals prepared for an assault. But now, with the peace treaty coming so soon, the guard had been doubled, making this mission more difficult than it had initially been.

Excellent. A challenge. Azalea's art of stealth was unrivaled, and sneaking by even the toughest of defenses was little more than child's play for her. Doubled defenses for a Stormcloak base would be slightly more difficult, but wouldn't pose too much of a risk. After all, their army was sparsely funded and wasn't properly trained. The only thing they had going for them was their passion, and as the war went on, even that had begun to dwindle.

The first step of her mission was making it to an encampment. The one in Falkreath seemed easy enough to access; it was in the middle of the woods and wasn't as protected as the base in, say, Haafingar. Azalea had it marked on her map, as well as any potential obstacles on her way.

It was a bit of a march. Azalea couldn't bring a dragon, it would attract too much attention. And Shadowmere, although fast, wasn't very stealthy. The huge pine trees towered above her as she walked, casting jagged shadows around her. Torches faintly shine through the branches, flickering in an almost jolly manner. Her lip curled in contempt. She didn't care for the whims of the mortals, and now, she saw just how futile the civil war really was.

The war would be lost and won, one side would emerge victorious. Yet the only thing they accomplished was losing more lives in the process. The gears of the world would continue turning, and it wouldn't be long before another war, another conflict, and it would continue like that until the end of time.

Well, it wasn't long until the actual end of time. Once she had helped Alduin regain his strength, the mortals wouldn't stand a chance. There would likely be one final war, one final stand against Alduin, but it would be futile. Their resources would be wasted fighting each other, their numbers whittled down by their former companions. And then… it would all be over. Azalea's final goal would be accomplished.

The sun was sinking rapidly, and Skyrim's moons became more prominent as the sky darkened. Azalea crouched down next to a large pine, watching the sky. It wouldn't be long until twilight fell, and she could sneak in. Most would think that midnight was the best time to strike, but the moonlight shone brightly, and its beams could ruin an otherwise perfect heist. But twilight was different. The moons were not yet bright enough to risk her cover; the sun was below the horizon. And what little light that was left helped blend the world together in a pool of shadow.

Azalea gazed at the sky, watching the moons, Masser and Secunda. She's always loved their light, less harsh than that of the sun. When she was a girl, she dreamed of traveling to the moons. She would stay up late at night, staring at the sky, dreaming of going up there in a Dwemer machine. How silly those past aspirations seemed now.

The last rays of light faded from the sky, and the murky blanket of twilight covered the land. Azalea straightened her mask one last time and slowly approached the camp. The Stormcloak soldiers there were laughing and drinking, unaware of Azalea's presence in the forest. She sneaked around the camp, finally spotting the forge, the dark outline of the anvil barely visible. There were three soldiers there, a little too close for comfort. Azalea drew her bow, a wicked-looking daedric creation. Black spikes and glowing red designs only added to the haunting appearance of the weapon. She nocked a simple iron arrow and pulled the bowstring. Time seemed to slow down around her as she slowly slackened her fingers and sent the arrow flying into the woods, away from her and the Stormcloaks.

"Did you hear that?" One of the soldiers stood up, looking around wildly. A few of them drew their weapons and moved towards the sound. Perfect. The forge was left unguarded. Silent as a shadow, Azalea snuck over to the crafting station. She grabbed a cuirass and a helmet, which was all she needed. Gauntlets and boots didn't matter; she could simply wear something stolen from the corpse of a bandit.

"An arrow?" A voice carried through the trees. Shit. They'd already found the projectile, and were running back to camp. Most likely they'd be on the lookout for the source. Azalea crouched behind the anvil, racking her brain for an idea. Finally, she peeked out, taking note of the Stormcloaks. They had fanned out and were searching the area, making escape almost impossible.

They were getting close. Too close. If possible, she wanted to avoid conflict. If they found her, everything would be over.

There had to be something she could do. She had a potion of invisibility, but it wouldn't be entirely effective. Chances are they'd see her, especially if they were as alert as they were now. If only there was some way to lure them away…

Azalea mentally kicked herself. Of course. How could she be so _stupid? _A shout she'd learned while investigating Shearpoint. The translation was a bit difficult to decipher, but she got the gist of it. A way to throw her voice, and lure away enemies. She glanced back at the soldiers. No time to lose. Summoning her thu'um, she whispered under her breath "_zul mey gut."_

The shout reverberated from a clearing across the camp, echoing in her voice "hey cheese-brain!" Azalea stifled a laugh as the soldiers charged towards it in outrage. She slipped away in the chaos, quietly making her way down the road. Step one was complete. It had come close, but it was complete nonetheless.

-]I[-

The road to Windhelm was not a pleasant one. The further north Azalea traveled, the colder it became. Despite her nord blood, she still despised the cold city. It was freezing, quite literally. There was a reason why the only wildlife there were frost trolls and other animals who were specially adapted to live in the cold.

When the city finally came into sight, Azalea practically sprinted there. She was dying for a bottle of mead, and for once related to the town guards who constantly commented on having one. She posed he heavy doors open and stumbled inside the city, heading directly to Candlehearth Hall. She tossed the bartender a small pouch of gold septims (which were probably stolen) and collapsed into a bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Azalea didn't remember her dreams that night, but woke up sweating and shaking. Perhaps it was better she didn't remember.

Yawning, she changed out of her night clothes and into the Stormcloak armor she'd stolen before. It fit her a bit loosely, but clothing sizes were the least of her concern.

The Palace of the Kings wasn't hard to access, especially when she was wearing the armor of Ulfric's army. It was simple to slip in, and the Jarl's quarters were easy enough to access. Ulfric was too busy plotting his "liberation of Skyrim," and didn't notice someone sneaking into his room.

Azalea did her best not to disrupt anything in the room, rummaging through the drawers and placing everything back neatly. She did grab Ulfric's coin purse, out of habit. She realized that currency wouldn't be of much concern to her, but old habits die hard. After five minutes of searching, she finally came across a letter on Ulfric's desk, signed and ready to be mailed. In all honesty, it shouldn't have taken her that long. For Talos' sake, it was in plain sight, yet she had decided to search every wardrobe and chest. She was a professional, but obviously not perfect.

Ulfric's hand didn't differ too much from her own, which made it easy to forge a contract in his hand. The letters were messy, printed out rather than in cursive, and ink blots dotted the page. His signature wasn't too difficult to copy either, the letters weren't too stylized, and it was in the same rough hand as his writing. Within minutes, she had forged a hit on Elisif's head. As simple as forging ledgers, back when she was with the Guild.

She snuck back downstairs, bidding farewell to the guards of the palace. In all honesty, it was a bit too easy. In her time as a thief and assassin, she had become addicted to the thrill of the chase, constantly craving more challenging tasks. But in these times, simplicity was a blessing.

-]I[-

The hold of Hjaalmarch was massive, and it wasn't easy to navigate. Vast swamps, lakes, and rivers made the land a wet mess, impossible to trudge through.

Surprisingly enough, Azalea's first stop wasn't the city of Solitude, but rather, an abandoned shack. The very same shack that Astrid had hauled her away to, after she'd passed out in the Flagon's cistern. She smiled faintly, recalling the time when she'd first met Astrid. She remembered the look on Astrid's face when she killed all three captives, a mixture of pride and amusement.

As she remembered the kills, she realized that it wasn't the deaths of everyone she loved that set her on a murderous rampage. It was simply her nature: cruel and unforgiving. She always had put herself above others, determining herself the one who chose who lived and who died. It was her fatal flaw: her lack of compassion.

But enough digression. She had to store her belongings, and the shack seemed the best place to do so. She carefully folded her Nightengale apparel and placed it on the bed. Removing her mask, she placed it on top of her armor. It stared back at her, and she was tempted to put it back on, to become the Dovahkiin once again. She turned her back and headed out the door, her sights set on the city of Solitude.

-]I[-

Azalea found herself staring at the Blue Palace, the guards leering at her. The blue fabric on her cuirass made her a bit of a spectacle, especially with tensions rising between Stormcloaks and Imperials. But the requirements for this were that she had to be caught in the armor with the contract, and she wasn't about to risk her master plan because she didn't like the looks she was getting.

The inside of the Blue Palace was as spotless as ever… for now. It wouldn't be long until the white walls were stained red. The Blade of Woe was concealed in the fabric of her cuirass. All Azalea needed to do was get in close.

The group inside stared at her as she approached the throne. Falk Firebeard was the first to speak.

"Why are you here, Stormcloak?"

Azalea smiled, walking closer to them. She was within range of Elisif, but she needed it to be perfect. If the Jarl didn't die, it wouldn't fill Tullius with the rage he needed to attack Windhelm. Or perhaps it would, and her bloodlust was taking control of her once again. No matter the case, she needed to spill blood.

"I'm here to deliver a message, from Ulfric." Azalea pulled the contract out of her pocket, making sure it was folded and sealed. It was imperative that they didn't see it, not until she was right next to Elisif. A nightshade flower was stuck inside the folded envelope, out of tradition. Azalea always left nightshade next to her targets. It wasn't a mark, nor was it mockery. It was her way of saying farewell, her parting wish. While it was her task to end their lives, she loved each and every one of the people she killed. Maybe it was twisted, but to her, it was her way of apologizing.

She handed the letter over with one slightly trembling hand, reaching inside the cuirass with the other. As Elisif took the letter, and the court turned their attention towards the Jarl, Azalea pulled the Blade of Woe out of her cuirass. She lunged forward, slashing at the throat of Elisif the Fair. The letter and flower tumbled to the ground, and Elisif was dead before she hit the floor. Immediately, the steward, wizard, guards, and thanes turned upon her, weapons drawn.

Azalea's initial plan was to get arrested, but it was clear that she wouldn't be allowed to live if they caught her. She sprinted out the door, sheathing her weapon as she charged down the road of Solitude. Arrows whizzed behind her; clearly the guards had been alerted. An arrow caught her in the shoulder, causing her to stumble. The doors out of the city had been locked, but they had neglected to attend to the very same exit she had used after killing the false emperor. She pushed past the people at the East Empire Trading Company, who were… bewildered... to say the least.

Azalea dove into the water below, and began swimming as fast as she could towards the shack. The armor was heavier than she was used to, and the wound in her arm was slowing her down. By the time she had made it back, the army behind her had gained on her.

"Shit," Azalea muttered under her breath, pulling herself onto the dry land. She kicked the door open, destroying the already rusting lock. Once inside, she grabbed her bow, quiver of arrows, and armor. The Legion soldiers were surely close her at this point, and she needed to make a quick exit. Rearing her head up towards the sky, she harnessed her thu'um and cried out "_Od Ah Viing!"_

It would take a little while for Odahviing to reach her, if he chose to show himself at all. It was a gamble, and the soldiers were getting closer. Azalea crouched behind the door of the shack, taking cover from any incoming arrows.

They were getting closer, she could hear the clanking of metal armor, the pounding footsteps. Would they ever give up? Nocking an arrow, Azalea held her breath and prepared to shoot. Her hands were trembling with anxiety, and the throbbing pain in her shoulder made it increasingly difficult to keep her aim straight. She needed to concentrate, needed to focus the stress into her arrows. Leaping out from her hiding spot, she attacked. Time around her seemed to slow as she loosed five arrows in quick succession, sending each one towards her marks.

The first three arrows landed in the throats of three men, killing them instantly. One other hit one of the Imperials in the stomach, causing him to double over in agony. The final hit a soldier's kneecap, sending him stumbling to the ground. Azalea drew another arrow, but dropped it on the ground after being forced to dive back behind cover.

By Sithis, it was like the whole Legion was after her. Her arrows could only hold the soldiers back for so long, how long until they would overpower her? She didn't have many options. Surrender didn't look like an option, either; they were bound to be out for her blood.

Azalea's hand hovered over a daedric arrow. If she didn't have any other options, the strength of the arrows might be able to take down one apiece. But there was always the potential of another foe, an issue more pressing than a group of Imperial soldiers.

Damn. This would be a pretty good moment to be one of those mages who could take out whole rooms of people in a single blow. What she wouldn't give to have one of those staves that harnessed the elements of fire, frost, or shock.

Well, it wasn't of any use to continue hiding. The dwarven arrows in Azalea's quiver needed to be used eventually. Azalea jumped out again, preparing to send another stream of arrows out at her foe.

The arrows pierced the wind, flying with incredible speed towards her marks. But before they struck their targets, a blast of fire engulfed the remaining soldiers.

"Dovahkiin, we fly together."

Without a moment's hesitation, Azalea leapt onto Odahviing's scaly back. The remaining soldiers were screaming in agony as they slowly burnt away, while those who had been smart enough to jump in the water called after her in anger. Azalea felt no remorse for them. After all, they were trying to kill her moments before, were they not? They, like all others, deserved to die. She turned away from the battlefield one last time. She wasn't concerned about any of these men returning for her. After all, it was almost nightfall, and these marshes were notorious for their vampires. Perhaps they would finish the job for her. It didn't matter. They would die eventually, whether it be at her hand or someone else's. The ground grew further and further away as they ascended, and Azalea was carried away into the clouds, her mission finally accomplished.

-]I[-

The first thing she did when she returned was to don her Nightingale apparel, and slip the mask back over her face. The Stormcloak armor might come in useful later, so she stowed it in her little cave. The second thing she did was to return to Alduin, and report to him the success of her mission.

Alduin seemed pleased with her. Tullius has called off the truce and was preparing for battle against Windhelm, and Ulfric was prepared to defend his city of stone. The Civil War had been rekindled, and the Imperial Army was no longer a threat.

Azalea glances at her dagger, still wet with blood. Silently, she pulled a ragged cloth, covered in dark streaks and stains, out of her pocket. She cleansed the blade of the red smears, holding it up to the moonlight.

The absurdity of the whole thing was its simplicity. One swish of a blade… one woman dead… was that all it took to set off the reaction that would ultimately result in the end of time itself? But that wasn't the most frightening thing. Far from it.

The thing about Azalea… the thing that Astrid had always looked down upon… was the fact that she loved her targets. Not in a lustful manner, not in anything permanent. No, she was in love with the _idea _of her targets. She knew that a mortal life was as unique as a snowflake… and as fragile. It was the reason she left flowers with her victims, the reason that she took care to make their deaths as painless as possible. There were a couple exceptions, but they were never official contracts.

But now… after the events that had just transpired… there was another exception. When she killed Elisif… when she had staged the assassination… she hadn't been sorrowful. Hadn't been apologetic. She had enjoyed it. And, in all honesty, that alarmed Azalea.

What had happened to the little girl who would break into houses for fun? Who would gaze at the moons and dream of touching the sky? What would she think of Azalea now? Because, if her feelings about today were really true, she was a cold-blooded killer. A ruthless machine, designed only for revenge. Dangerous. Cruel. Bloodthirsty.

Well, it didn't matter. It wasn't any use to be forming bonds with mortals, or caring about the deceased. They would all be dead by the year's end, anyway. And what an end would it be, not only the end of a year, but the end of an era. The age of the Dovah was coming once again. Nothing would stop them now.

-=]I[=-

**Alright, gonna be honest here, this took me way too long to write, edit, and publish. Seriously, I've been trying to manage this, two other stories, and also a story I'm helping my friends write (I think I mentioned that before? I don't know.) But anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. **

**Now, let's address these reviews! Chendong2698, we'll just have to see what happens to Paarthy. In all honesty… I don't really know. So far, there are like five possible outcomes that I'm looking into, maybe more. Random Guest, thank you, I'm trying. JDLENL, I already addressed you in the last chapter, but thanks again. Possibly Gigan, I KNOW RIGHT?! All of these characters who think they're the most important person on Nirn, when in reality, the true being of power is the Dovahkiin. Don't even get me started on Nazeem. Invalidtale and redfan90, glad you enjoy it thus far!**

**I think that's it for now. See you guys later!**

**~Silver**


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